


From This Moment On

by Iris_Celeno



Category: Code Black (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Seriously I have no limit here, Sexual Content, Sugar and Saccharine, Surprises along the way, Warning: Clichés, Wedding morning, sex with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-22 23:25:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6097396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iris_Celeno/pseuds/Iris_Celeno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chapter 1: Something Old.<br/>Chapter 2: Something Borrowed.<br/>Chapter 3: Something Blue.<br/>Chapter 4: Something New.</p><p>Do I need to say more?</p><p>Chapter 5: A rose, by any other name...<br/>(1-4 are G-rated, 5 is rated E)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Something Old

**Author's Note:**

> This is the original +1 of the 5+1 I nixed (People who didn't know find out about Neal and Christa, and Leanne finds out something that Neal and Christa don't know). It expanded, of course, and scenes became chapters...If brevity is the soul of wit, I'm definitely witless.  
> The fic is rated G for now, but the rating will at least increase to T in the last chapter.  
> Non beta-ed, as usual please forgive any mistake you might find.

It was the fourth of July, and the weather was scorching hot. It was a blessing that for once, the annual barbecue for Angels Memorial ER personnel was held in a small estate by the ocean, and not simply in the park nearby the hospital. 

Most men, as always, were gathered around the big grills installed near a long bungalow. A huge catering table with salads, appetizers and potato chips by the pound throned on the wooden terrace. There was another table with refreshments, beer like every year but also cocktails, wine and champagne, and a handful of servers were hovering around. Chairs and tables decorated with colorful bunches of flowers -Amy and Risa had been adamant about the flowers- were waiting for the guests instead of the usual cloths spread on the grassy ground.

The affair was a bit too fancy for a barbecue, but as far as weddings went it was simple as they came.

Combining both celebrations had been the bride's idea. Every year, the outdoor party lasted from noon to noon, so those who were on shift could come and enjoy it at one moment if they wanted; some attended with their partners and children, others alone, some stayed the whole time, others just stopped by for a while.  
Angels Memorial was part of their family, the biggest part of their life; it was unthinkable that it wasn't part of their wedding. Although they kept their relationship as private as possible, everybody knew about them and had supported them in their past time of need. They wanted to share their happiness with everyone, then, but they didn't want to make the whole thing all about them either. Moreover, they were reluctant to ask their colleagues to sacrifice one of their rare days off with their families just for them. So, the barbecue offered the perfect solution.  
On a selfish note, it also allowed to moderate the enthusiasm and general meddling of their blood families, who seemed keen on organizing a formal-bordering-royal affair that none of the fiances wanted.  
Amy and Risa were the two main organizers and when they were approached with the notion, they had been more than receptive. They had squealed like schoolgirls and decided on the spot to act as wedding planners.

It was a great idea, and the two nurses had done a great job at keeping it simple and casual, Dr Leanne Rorish approved of inwardly, watching the crowd from her seat at the table set for close colleagues. The atmosphere was as familial and as relaxed as every other year, everybody coming and going freely.  
It struck her that at first sight, the scene in front of her eyes wasn't very different from what she saw everyday at the hospital. People were mingling, talking too loud, walking hastily across the venue. Of course, in essence, it was completely different. No place for sorrow, suffering and stress today. There was only joy, laughter and fun. But the feel of the ER, of that entity created by all those souls working together for the greater good, was here.

“Our people are happy,” Jesse Sallander declared as he sat down on the chair at her left, passing a flute of champagne to her. In his other hand, he was holding a margarita. 

They shared a look and, grinning, clinked their glasses. Their grins widened when, scanning the crowd, their eyes fell upon the bride and groom. 

Neal was handsome as ever in a light grey suit, white short-sleeved shirt, and no tie. _You don't wear a tie to a barbecue_ , he had asserted again that very morning, upon his father's objections. Christa was radiant in an ankle-length, strapless sheath of white silk, unadorned but for graceful drapés from the waist down. She didn't wear a veil, but a discreet white ribbon headband in her hair, styled in a romantic bun. Her only jewelry was the pear-shaped diamond pendant that Neal had offered her for Christmas and of course, on her left hand, her engagement ring and her wedding band. 

“I thought that our boy would be more awkward,” the nurse remarked. “He doesn't like any attention and less of the personal kind. Not that our girl likes it more.”

“If not for his mother and, I quote her, her shameless emotional blackmail, they'd have married in front of a judge in his office and certainly not in front of a minister and everyone here. Thanks to my position as a maid of honor, I also know for a fact that they almost eloped. Twice.”

Jesse chuckled. “And yet, look at them now.”

Neal was beaming, standing behind an equally beaming Christa. His arms were locked around her belly, holding her close; her hands were resting on his forearms, her head against his chest. He kissed her temple from time to time while they were discussing with his best man, Mike Leighton, and Amy. Since they were declared man and wife, Neal hadn't let go of her for one second, keeping at least one arm wrapped possessively around her, and he didn't seem to care that the whole world could see him. He even stole his bride a quick kiss on the lips as Ed Harbert was approaching them in turn, to offer his congratulations. 

“Of all people, you had to invite the head of HR as your plus one to the wedding of an attending and a resident,” Jesse mocked. 

“If we're talking etiquette, you're the only one here in a tux. This is a _barbecue_.”

“Not the only one,” the Latino rispoted triumphantly, nodding towards Peter Hudson, who had refused to wear anything else at his son's wedding in spite of the venue and the weather. The neurosurgeon had dropped the jacket, of course, but still managed to look regal and not ridiculous while he was talking or rather, trading barbs with a cargo pants and polo-clad Mark Taylor. “See? It's British etiquette, the male parents have to dress up. On the other hand, I don't see anyone else here with a board member in tow.”

Leanne shrugged, a mysterious smile playing on her lips. “Why don't you ask the real question instead of beating around the bush?”

Jesse's rumbling belly laugh answered her. “You mean, is he just a plus one or is he a date? I already know the answer to this one, Daddy. I know you. I know everything.”

“Or almost,” she insinuated, her eyes back on the newlyweds. 

Leanne and Jesse had this constant, friendly little competition going on between them about who knew what, who knew better and above all, who was first to know. And Christa and Neal's relationship had been one of their favorite playfields. 

“Oh, I'm aware of that one, too,” he guffawed, full of self-confidence.

They exchanged another glance, clinked their glasses one more time. 

“Dr Rorish,” Risa addressed her, passing behind her seat and handing her a microphone. “Are you ready for your speech?” 

“Oh, yes I am,” she smirked. 

She stood up, grabbed her spoon, and tapped it on the side of her flute. The chiming had people around her stop talking, silence spreading in bigger and bigger circles around her.

“Your attention, please,” she then said in the microphone, using her Center Stage voice.

When Leanne Rorish spoke, people listened. 

Ed sat down at her right, followed by Mike, Angus, Mario and Malaya who were of course at the same table, although the three residents were a tad uncomfortable around the head of HR. He, in turn, seemed on his guard with Mike and Angus, but it wasn't too surprising. Those two were the leaders of every ER rebellion against the suits.  
Everybody imitated their group and within a couple of minutes, everybody was seated...but the bride and groom, duly ordered to stand alone in front of the assembly by an unyielding Amy.  
Neal and Christa didn't know about the speech. They didn't want speeches, they had been quite clear about it. They really had planned to get married privately in front of a judge, and have a simple party afterwards. They had relented only because the nurses in charge had backed his mother and fully expected the ceremony to take place here, insisting that people would be disappointed if it didn't, which was the truth. 

_Now_ they were embarrassed by all the attention, Leanne thought with smug affection. Neal gave her a reproachful, I-can't-believe-you-agreed-to-this glance. Clearly, Christa was bracing herself, taking a sip of the golden liquid filling her flute. And yet, the director of the ER noticed with satisfaction, they still didn't let go of each other.

“Don't sulk, Dr Hudson, we took pity on you,” she began slyly. “There will be only one speech, and you won't have to make one. Your ordeal shall be short.”

Her introduction was greeted with loud laughter and clapping.

“Oh, I'm sure you'll make it worth two or three speeches,” Neal retorted in a humorous tone, opting to take the whole thing gracefully. Christa laughing and kissing his cheek in comfort probably explained his philosophical attitude. 

Leanne made a little mock bow, and went on. 

“Dear families, friends and colleagues, for those of you who don't know me I am Leanne Rorish, the director of the ER at Angels Memorial and Christa's maid of honor. Like many of us who are present today, I have the privilege to work with the bride and groom, and I had the privilege to see their love be born and grow.”

At the table just behind the doctors's, Neal's mother distinctly aww-ed. Neal blatantly cringed. This one was for you, Leanne thought, quite pleased with herself. Sorry not sorry, my friend. 

“I certainly had a front row seat, and I like to think that I was the first to know,” she went on, ignoring Jesse's grumbling on her left. “I could tell you secrets. For example, I must be the only one privy to the fact that our happy couple here flirted for the first time over a gangrenous toe...”

She made a little pause, to let her words register with the audience, and appreciate the hilarious reaction of the newlyweds. They certainly didn't expect this one. 

“After all, it happened in front of me...and on the second day or so of Christa's residency, if my memory serves me right?”

The crowd roared. 

“You've got game, bro!” Mario shouted, over Mike's wild whistles.

On an embarrassed giggle, Christa hid her face in the crook of her husband's neck. He murmured something in her ear, smiling. She peered at him, smiling back.

Leanne threw a smug peek at Jesse, quite content with her little effect. Take that, Mama. 

“Yes, I could tell you many secrets, but I promised to be short so I will tell you the most important. I was there when Neal arrived at Angels Memorial, lost and searching for a way. I was there when Christa arrived, two years ago, seeking a path to rebuild her life. They found what they were looking for, and two things they didn't expect. Each other would be, of course, the first one. As for the second, we all share it with them. Siblings,” she smiled, her eyes on Neal. “They found us, just like we found them.”

The whole audience was silent now, hanging on her every word. Malaya took Jesse's hand and rested her head on Angus's shoulder. Her friend reflexively wrapped his arm around her, and shared a look of acknowledgment with his blood brother and Mario. 

“Here, we have another family. We take care of each other, as our Mama says. We cry for each other, we rejoice for each other. We know each other and sometimes, we even know what happens to one of us before they do,” she added, this time exchanging a glance with Christa. “We know no bigger blessing than each other's bliss. And today, we're celebrating just that. This is why I am truly delighted to congratulate you, Neal and Christa, and deeply thankful to you for sharing your happiness with us. May it last for ever. To Mr and Mrs Hudson,” she finished, lifting her glass.

“To Mr and Mrs Hudson!” the crowd cheered, amidst thunderous applause.


	2. Something Borrowed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Directly follows chapter 1. The wedding reception goes on, and so does the little competition between Jesse and Leanne. More focus on other characters in this one.

_“To Mr and Mrs Hudson!” the crowd cheered, amidst thunderous applause._

When Leanne finished her speech, the bride and groom had forgotten their ealier embarrassment. Christa, her eyes teary, took Neal by the hand and ran to her friend as fast as her dainty white sandals allowed her to. She placed her flute on the table in a hurry, would have spilled it if Mario didn't grab it and set it right, and finally let go of her husband for a heartfelt hug with her maid of honor.

“It was lovely, Leanne. Thank you,” she smiled, wiping a tear menacing to spill at the corner of her eye. 

The older doctor gave her a motherly kiss on the cheek. “Be happy.”

“Thank you.” Neal repeated his wife's words gravely, before he hugged Leanne, too.

“So the ordeal was short enough?” she smirked over his shoulder.

“It became very bearable when I began to think of what I'm going to say in _my_ speech at _your_ wedding,” he murmured as he stepped back, with a meaningful look in Harbert's direction. 

She rolled her eyes. “It's only a first date.”

Neal attracted Christa into his arms again, kissed the top of her shoulder, and offered Leanne his most boyish smirk. “Sometimes, we know what happens to one of us even before they do.”

“You're so full of it,” Christa tried to scold him, but her bright and loving smile rendered her attempt quite unconvincing. 

The venue was buzzing with talks again, many guests going to get food or drinks in happily animated groups, the kids were running everywhere. Peter Hudson called his daughter-in-law over the chatter.

“Christa, dear, would you please take pity on _me_ and explain this gangrenous toe business? Enquiring minds want to know and are nagging me to no end with it,” he pleaded good-naturedly. 

“Thank you for that, too, Leanne,” Neal sighed, deadpan, as he steered his wife to the neighboring table, where his parents were seated.

Ed Harbert then invited his date to go to the buffet with him. He even politely proposed to bring back another margarita for Jesse, who had almost finished his. He was quite nice to socialize with, but there was no denying that the other guests at the table felt more at ease without him around. They'd have preferred Rollie Guthrie to be there, but for personal reasons he always worked on the fourth of July and had only attended the short wedding ceremony, before his shift started. 

“I didn't tell you yet how great you look, Malaya,” Mike commented, with a friendly smile, on her long and fluide dress of bright coral color. 

“Thank you. You look good, too,” she grinned. “but I'm not sure that I'm an authority.”

They were friends now, mostly because she was close to Angus and Christa and he was close to Neal, but not only. His management style was quite different from Dr Rorish's and since they were closer in age, they related more easily. It was strange. She and Mario, especially, often made fun of him in their private circle, but it wouldn't have come to their mind to disrespect his authority when in Center Stage. 

“Maybe we should ask straight girls? I bet that Emma D. and Abigail would be delighted to give us their opinion on the matter,” she went on. 

Angus and Mario whistled. Now that Neal was taken, Mike was the undisputed heart-throb of the ER and those two young nurses were his greatest fans. The second year residents teased him relentlessly about it.

“You're kidding? They'd flatter me just to get into my pants. Imagine if in a moment of weakness, my ego you tease me about all the time took over and I fell for it. Mama would kill me if I laid a hand on them,” Mike protested. 

“You know your Mama,” Jesse noticed smugly.

“Be honest, Leighton. You aren't afraid of Mama. You're afraid that if you sleep with a girl you actually have to meet again, it might get serious, and you might end up in Hudson's place.”

“I'm with Mario on this one,” Angus admitted, holding his hands up defensively when his brother gave him the stink eye. 

Mike deliberately avoided any kind of romantic commitment, and he always had. It was the truth, although Angus knew that it wasn't out of shallowness, this time. Their parents didn't exactly offer an example of happy or even just healthy marriage; and unlike him, Mike had had no one to spare him of the nasty side of it. 

“I don't see why Mike should be afraid. Neal doesn't seem to complain about his place in this wedding,” Malaya remarked innocently, sipping on her drink.

“Neal hasn't been in his right mind since the moment he laid eyes on Christa,” Mike countered. “Being crazy in love kind of annihilates rational thinking. It's medically proven.”

“Usually, I'd say he's in for a rude awakening. But in all probability, they'll look like that in thirty years,” Mario surmised, nodding towards Neal's parents. 

They were seated side by side, Asra discussing with her son and daughter-in-law, Peter with Christa's grandmother, and seemingly they paid each other no mind. But their hands, resting on the table between them, were entwined and his thumb distractedly stroked hers. 

“It's the best we can wish them,” Malaya remarked, a touch of melancholy in her gaze and voice. She was elated for her friends, but she missed Carla today. After eighteen months, her gaping wound had healed but it left a scar and sometimes, she felt a dull pain where it was. “You should have seen him during the quarantine, back then. He was devastated at the idea of losing her. So much love after so many years...it's rare.”

Her hand was still in Jesse's, and the nurse squeezed it. She gave him a smile. Mama really knew everything and better, understood everything. 

“With their overenthusiastic families, I'm surprised they managed to keep the wedding casual.” 

Angus's remark chased Malaya's last traces of sadness away. “Poor Christa. She's the anti-bridezilla, whereas her grandmother is just terrible.”

“She's a sweet old lady,” Mario commented. He had a thought for his own grandma. He missed her, terribly. But at the end of August, he had three days off and he'd fly to Jersey. 

“Here's our resident granny-killer,” Mike quipped, in retaliation for Mario's previous remark. 

“Oh, she's adorable,” Malaya agreed with her fellow resident, “but she's terrible all the same. I talked to her this morning. Well, it seems that Christa doesn't have something blue and she was plainly obsessive about it.”

“Christa has blue eyes,” Mario shrugged.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

“And yet, somehow, this argument was enough for Grans to stop fretting when she talked to me about it,” he replied, all smugness. “Also, with all due respect, Leighton, if you call me a granny-killer again I'll tell Abigail that you pine for her in secret.”

Mike pretended to shudder, making Jesse and Malaya laugh. 

“Casual wedding or not, food and drinks are so much better than at last year's barbecue,” Angus rejoiced. “Maybe someone can get married every year so that we can keep the same quality?” 

Jesse grinned. “I can think of someone who might volunteer in one or two.”

“By the way, is the champagne any good?” Mike asked, having just finished his glass of white wine.

Malaya was drinking a Moscow Mule, Angus white wine like his brother, and Mario a grape juice. 

“Amy told me that the Hudsons Senior chose it as a present for Christa, so it should be a nice one. You know she has a weakness for champagne. She forgot her flute, why don't you try it?” the latter proposed, handing the abandonned glass to his chief.

Jesse let go of Malaya's hand and, to her surprise, tried to intercept the glass. He sighed when he understood that unfortunately, he was seated too far from the other men to succeed.

Mike took a sip and frowned, nonplussed.

“Wow, that bad? Never trust the British with food _or wine_?” Mario teased. “Or is the Indian side to blame here?”

Malaya leaned over Angus to smack Jersey Boy on the shoulder, but he dodged with a bratty smirk.

“It's ginger ale,” Mike said slowly.

Jesse rolled his eyes. 

“What?” 

“It isn't champagne, it's ginger ale,” Mike repeated, in answer to his brother.

Their heads, bar Jesse's, all simultaneously jerked towards the newlyweds, who were still talking with their families. And the importance of a detail they had registered without truly paying attention to it hit them all at once. 

Since she showed up at the altar, Neal's hands had barely left Christa's _belly_. And now that they took notice, they realized that he kept on caressing it, absent-mindedly.

They were still gawking at each other, in a stunned silence, when Leanne came back with a plate full of different salads. Harbert was following her, but made a halt to discuss with Dr Taylor. 

“Yeah, our boy has a tell,” Jesse shrugged, letting her know why their children looked as if the sky had fallen on them. “Mum's the word, though. Clear?”

They all nodded obediently, the shock gradually wearing off...at least, for most of them. 

“I need food. Lots of food,” Angus declared. “Oh my God. Is she really...”

Mario stood up, patted him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, let's go get your mouth full so that you can't freaking talk.”

Mike and Malaya announced that they were hungry, too, and while trying to prevent Angus from gaping at Christa, the little groupe left Mama and Daddy alone. 

Leanne shook her head, amused. Jesse observed her for a second.

“I noticed as soon as she appeared in her wedding dress. Usually, the groom's eyes are intent on the bride's _face_ , not constantly drifting to her midriff,” he explained with a little proud laugh.

“Still beating around the bush, Jesse...” 

Her tone of voice clued him in and ticked him off.

“It doesn't count if they told you.”

“They didn't tell me.”

“They didn't know yesterday, I'm sure of it. No one saw them together today before that moment. And you pretend you guessed before me? From where you were, at the altar, you couldn't see his face. No way.”

“If you say so,” she agreed, with an unnerving smile.

Actually, she had known before the future parents. But she didn't need to apprise Jesse of this little detail herself or even right now. She was quite sure that Christa would do it for her at one point, sealing her complete victory in this round. Game, set and match, Mama.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something borrowed: Christa's glass of non-champagne.  
> They married and had many children...yes, I dared. You were warned, clichés all the way.  
> Next chapter: Flashback to the morning of Neal and Christa's wedding day. Leanne is Christa's best woman a.k.a, how Christa found out about her pregnancy.


	3. Something Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christa/Leanne friendship, a little Ed/Leanne romance, and the baby bombshell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of what we went through with the season finale, I'm posting the two original final chapters of this fic. 
> 
> There was a change of plans, though. The last scene of the last chapter expanded into a chapter, again (but I swear, there will be no more). The fifth and last one will be at least rated M. I haven't finished writing it yet. 
> 
> As always, non-betaed, please forgive any mistake you might find.

Earlier that day, Leanne got off a cab, in front of the estate where Neal and Christa's wedding was to take place.

It was charming, indeed, and very appealing under the sunny sky. The main building was a long, one-story white bungalow with a wooden terrace on one side, a garden with shrubs and flowers on the other. It spread over a vast plot of green lawn, surrounded by rows of trees that offered welcome shadow in the heat of summer. The oceanfront was behind the trees, and there was another small bungalow hidden a hundred meters away from there, where she knew the newlyweds would discreetly retire and spend their three days of honeymoon.  
The servers were already setting up the tables on the lawn, Amy and Risa directing the operations. In the scattered crowd, the doctor spotted Peter Hudson's tuxedo, and also Mario, who was helping Christa's grandmother to a seat. Aside from the personnel of Angels Memorial, only the closest family had been invited -parents, grand-parents, siblings- as well as a dozen of old friends. 

“Hello, Leanne!” Mike waved to her from the terrace, where he was discussing with Angus and Malaya. 

She grinned as she noticed the guys's outfits. Christa didn't want bridesmaids. She had argued that it was a second marriage and she, her female relatives and oldest friends had already been there, done that the first time around. Leanne would be her maid of honor, Malaya would be her wedding witness and they'd dress as they liked, she had insisted. So, as a kind of joke, Mike, Angus and Mario had decided to all wear the same model of light linen suit, of a slightly darker gray than the groom's. 

“How's Neal?” she asked upon joining the little group.

“In his room, all set and ready,” her successor as chief of the residency program announced, pointing the left side of the building. “He doesn't need me anymore. It's as well, because I believe he's counting the _seconds_ now, and it drove me nuts.”

“I'd better go check on the bride, then.” 

“She booted her relatives out of her room,” Malaya informed her. “Nicely, of course. She said she needed to rest, but I think she needed a break.” 

Leanne nodded and entered the bungalow. In the vast white wooden lobby that gave access to the bedrooms and drawing rooms, she found Ed Harbert, elegant in a short-sleeved white shirt and marine pants, sitting in one of the leather armchairs. He was waiting for her, and it pleased her.

“I thought that a date involved picking you up at your place,” he smiled, taking her hand and bringing it briefly to his lips. “Or am I relegated to plus one status?”

She ignored the slight flutter in her stomach. 

“I'm sorry, I had a last minute errand to run for the bride. But I took a cab here, so you get to drive me back home and it's still a date.”

“When is the party over, already?” he asked, deadpan. 

She bowed her head, trying to hide a chuckle. “I have to go and attend to Christa. See you later?”

“You can count on it. Oh, and Leanne?” he added, kissing the back of her hand again. “You look beautiful.”

He caught her off guard, and he knew it. It was the little game they played, that tug-of-war between two alpha personalities which had always been a part of their relationship. So she conceded the point with a gracious smile, began to walk away, and she said suavely over her shoulder. 

“Maybe I'll be tipsy and a little foolish, tonight.”

“You have a mean streak, Leanne,” he sighed, as she knocked at the door of the bride's room.

“Come in!” her friend's slightly hoarse voice answered. 

She could sense a little tension it it. When she entered, though, Christa greeted her with a bright smile and obvious relief. She was wearing a white robe, her hair and make-up were already done. In the dusky pink and mahogany wood décor of the room, she seemed to draw all the light to her and glow. 

“Neal is going to have a heart attack,” Leanne grinned. “You look magnificent already.”

“You can speak. You look fabulous,” the blonde replied, pointing at Leanne's classy mauve muslin suit, dark straw-colored sandals and pearls dangling at her ears and around her neck.

“You were kind enough to spare me of a hideous dress, so I thought I should try my best. Nervous?” the older doctor asked, examining her face.

“No...well, just a little bit antsy,” the bride conceded. “I shouldn't have had breakfast. It weighs on my stomach now. Or maybe it's the shrimps I had yesterday evening at Hector's. Or the tons of japalenos. I already threw up. My stomach is killing me, and I think I'm running a little fever. Oh God, I hope I won't be sick on my wedding day.” 

At the end of her tirade, she was pacing up and down. 

“Just a little bit antsy,” Leanne repeated, a brow raised.

Christa sighed helplessly. “Sorry. I'm not nervous about marrying Neal. I'm sure about marrying Neal. I'm impatient to marry Neal. It's just that everybody is so overexcited about the whole thing. Our families are...like mad. This morning, Asra and my grandmother were in a state because I don't have something blue, you'd think it was the end of the world. Usually, it would make me laugh, but...The last weeks at the hospital have been so insane, I think it wore me down, I'm tired all the time and everything gets to me.”

“What's the term in use, when it isn't the bride who gets crazy about the wedding? 'Bridezillas by proxy' ?” Leanne joked.

As she expected, Christa giggled and tension exited her a bit. “Sorry. I didn't mean to unload everything on you.”

“Hey, you're supposed to. I signed for it.”

“About this...” she hesitated. “I wanted to thank you again for being my maid of honor. It means a lot to me and to Neal. You've been so supportive of us.” 

From the first day on, Christa Lorenson always had this way of getting to the tender fiber of her heart, even when it was hardened and closed off by loss. Leanne had long stopped being annoyed by it. 

“Well, as your maid of honor, I have a little something for you. I thought I'd better give it before you put your dress on,” she added, her smile gently teasing now.

She took a little package out of her vintage pearl clutch. 

“Is it something blue?” Christa wondered, tearing open the pink paper wrapping it.

“I'd bet good money it will be, once you've peed on it.”

The blonde gaped at the pregnancy test in her hand, then at her friend.

“I can't be,” she laughed nervously.

“You can't, or you _can't_?”

“Oh my God.”

She _was_ late. Only, she didn't see things like this until this very second. In the last months of her son's disease, when she was railing thin, sleeping four hours a night if she was lucky and at the end of her rope, her cycle became vastly irregular. When her ex left, when she began her residency at Angels...whenever she was under high pressure since then, she was one to three months without periods.  
So it didn't surprise her, with the highly tense atmosphere at work plus the stress of dealing with their families for the wedding, that she had had none in the last six or seven weeks. So of course, she had put the couple of other symptoms that now jumped to her eyes down to exhaustion.  
About six weeks in. That's when she began to have morning sickness, for her son.  
About seven weeks ago. It was that night...

Eyes wide, head shaking in denial, Christa let herself drop on the chair in front of the dressing table. “I didn't...lately I...yes, it's _possible_...but it was just one time...”

“'It was just one time'...I bet that ob-gyns have this sentence embroidered on cushions.”

Christa rolled her eyes, in a good-natured way. “Maybe, but at my age?” 

“Before discussing this any further, you should confirm,” Leanne suggested with an inviting bow, pointing at the adjacent rest rooms. 

Christa obeyed, still in a daze. 

“You and Neal talked about this, right?” Leanne asked gently when she came back, setting the alarm of her phone.

“Yes, yes we did. I mean, he thought it might be an issue...he wants children with me, and he wasn't sure I wanted to do it all over again. To be honest, before him, I didn't think I wanted to do it all over again. I never imagined I would.”

“Before him.”

The bride acquiesced, unable to hide a smile at the mention of her future husband. 

“Of course, we knew we didn't have ten years in front of us. I even expected I'd have to go through fertility treatment. I meant to take a check-up in September, see how difficult it would be, and if we could wait until the end of my residency to start trying...” she cut off, suddenly realizing what it meant, if she was pregnant now. 

“It will be hard,” Leanne said. She wasn't one to sugarcoat difficulties. “But I've seen women manage it, some with less help than Neal will provide you with. The first two years are behind you. I'm sure you can do it, if that's what you want of course.”

“That's what I want. That's what I want, really,” Christa repeated, incredulous. She took a deep breath. “I didn't realize I wanted it so much until now.”

Her eyes turned watery. Leanne handed her a tissue.

“Since they were in a state about no something blue, imagine how your relatives will react if you ruin your make-up.”

“I don't know why they say 'maid of honor' and not 'best woman',” the blonde thanked her on a teary laugh. “You're really the best.”

Leanne was about to answer when Christa's phone bipped, making her jump on her feet. Three minutes, the results were in. She was pale under her make-up. 

“Leanne, I need to see Neal. Whatever the test says, I need him now,” she pleaded. “I know we're not supposed to see each other before the ceremony, but...”

“Consider it done,” her friend answered, and in a rare physical display of affection, she took her hand and pressed it. “Put your dress on. Go to the blue drawing room, second door after yours. I'll get him in here by the garden. Like that, you won't risk an interruption. If people look for you, it will be in your rooms.”

Leanne left Christa, and found Ed in the same armchair as earlier in the lobby, reading a newspaper. She smiled inwardly. He was still waiting for her. 

“I have a 911,” she told him in a conspiratorial whisper.

“I'm your date, I'm here to serve,” he answered with a little ironic salute.

“If someone looks for the bride and doesn't find her in her room, she's gone to settle a detail with the caterer. You never saw her enter the drawing room over there. And no one else should enter it.”

“Bride with caterer. Drawing room empty, no one comes in. Duly noted,” he confirmed pleasantly.

She hurried toward Neal's room, and this time, she said over her shoulder.

“Later tonight...I'll be tipsy and a little foolish, for sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something blue: the pregnancy test.  
> Next chapter: Christa tells Neal, sugar levels gets out of control, and several people might risk a heart attack.


	4. Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Directly follows chapter 3. Christa tells Neal. Romance, romance, romance.  
> And a bit of Leanne/Neal frienship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanfiction is the booze of desperate shippers. Writing helps, I hope that reading will, too!  
> Non beta-ed, please forget any mistake you might find.

Neal was checking his phone for the umpteenth time, cursing minutes that pig-headedly refused to tick by, when a discreet knock at the door of his room startled him.

“Leanne?” he frowned, letting her in. 

His friend put a finger on her lips, walked to the French windows and stepped into the garden without losing a second. “Follow me, and don't ask questions. Quick!”

He did as she said and followed her outside. The garden was deserted, at least for now, since the wedding venue was on the other side of the building and no one was wandering around the grounds yet. 

“Is everything OK?” he nevertheless inquired.

“I said, no questions,” she scolded. 

She stopped in front of another set of French windows. Before he could ask her anything else, she opened them and all but pushed him inside.

There was someone waiting for him in the drawing room, and when he recognized her he had no more questions, no more thoughts, and no more breath, because she was a vision that stole it away.

“My God, Christa...” he finally managed to whisper, baffled. “You look...you're...”

He had no words. “Gorgeous” or “exquisite” sounded too tame, too trite, to describe her right now. There were no words, because she was his bride in her wedding dress. His wife. His, for the rest of their lives. 

He tried to hide his emotion with humor, aware that he didn't quite succeed. “It's very kind of you and Leanne to spare me of a heart attack at the altar.”

“I wouldn't be so sure about no heart attack,” she replied back, a small quiver in her voice. 

Too mesmerized by the sight of her, he hadn't noticed until now that she seemed a bit shaken. Before he could worry about it, she held out a little white object to him. It looked more or less like a flat pen. 

His brain didn't register what it was until he took it, examined it, and deciphered the word “pregnant” written in blue digital letters on the tip.

He needed a few more seconds for the piece of information to compute.

Very slowly, he raised his eyes to Christa. Christa who was staring at him, breathtaking in her white dress, millions of emotions shining in her blue eyes. The world blurred around him, time did really stop, and he could only see her. He reached for her through that unreal haze surrounding him, with the weird sensation of doing so in slow motion. 

Reverently, almost shyly, he placed his hand on her flat abdomen. 

Her skin was warm through the smooth fabric of her dress, and suddenly the world was in focus again. 

“Christa...”

He had no words but her name, whispered in pure, absolute awe. He had no words to tell her what it meant to him, what she meant to him. He had no words because his joy, unadulterated, so intense, so deep, was beyond description. He had no words so he rested his forehead against hers, hoping she'd understand, hoping she'd see it all. 

When her eyes misted up and filled with love, he knew she did. 

He kissed her, then. Just like he had that day, a year and a half and a world ago, in the bleak light of dawn after a harrowing shift. Soulful, fervent, tentative all at once. He was kissing her for the first time all over again because for the first time, he was kissing the mother of his child. And all over again, he wanted to savor every second, he wanted to commit that moment to his memory and keep it with him until his last breath. 

When they parted, she was smiling and one lone tear was rolling down her cheek. He chased it away with a stroke of his left hand, touching her with infinite delicacy. She was so strong and so fragile, his Christa. She had suffered so much...

The thought reminded him that, upon his arrival, she looked troubled.

“Are you well? Are you all right with this? Truly?” he asked, his voice soft, a concerned light in his gaze.

She cradled his face, stood on her tiptoes, and answered him with a long, desperate kiss.

“Don't,” she whispered fiercely.“Don't let what happened to me spoil this for you.”

She put her left hand upon his, on her stomach, and pressed it.

“This is what I want, Neal. I asked for you before I read the result, because I needed to tell you that. I won't pretend that part of me isn't still scared. If I were to lose another child...” she shook her head, pushing back the past, the pain. “You know how I felt.”

He nodded. She had been honest with him when he broached the subject, some time before he proposed to her. She wanted a child with him, if she could give him one, but she wasn't certain that her past wouldn't affect the way she'd live a pregnancy. 

He was more aware of the extent of her loss since, about a year before, she had begun to talk to him about her life, before. About her son. First, she had shared funny or sweet stories. Then, when he asked and she was ready for it, she had showed him pictures, videos. The adorable blond toddler had her eyes and her smile, and also some of her facial expressions, and it had left Neal shaken to the core. It had made him realize that a part of her had died with her child, a part of her heart had gone with him and the notion had shocked him, angered him, terrified him to his very soul.  
So when she had cried in his arms on the last anniversary of her son's death, he didn't only ache for her. He, too, had mourned the little boy whom he had never met, and his admiration for Christa had only grown. He wasn't sure he'd even be able to consider risking such a heartbreak again in her stead. 

So yes, he knew how she felt, he understood her fears, and her strength humbled him.

“I was afraid it would overwhelm me. I was afraid that fear would hold me back, make me see only what I had to lose. But today, when I realized I could be pregnant, it didn't. It doesn't. It doesn't because I'm in this with you.”

She caressed his cheek, with infinite tenderness. He took her hand in his free one, brought it to his lips and kissed her palm. 

“With you, I feel strong. With you, I can believe that nothing bad will happen to this child. I know that we won't let anything happen to this child. I want this, Neal,” she repeated, “I want this more than anything in the world because it's yours. It's ours. And there's no place for fear because I feel so incredibly happy and so incredibly blessed. So I want to share it all with you, to rejoice with you, and I don't want anything to cast a shadow over it.” 

Neal didn't know that lightning could strike the same man twice, and yet here he was. Staring at her as if he saw her for the first time, staring at this wonderful woman in front of him, he fell in love with her all over again, the strength of the feeling leaving him dazed and reeling. 

And this time, the words came to him.

“You undo me,” he confessed, his voice thick and low. “You just undo me, Christa.”

She threw her arms around his neck, he locked his around her waist. Their lips met on their own accord and they kissed deeply, tenderly, madly, widly, holding to each other for dear life, until they were giddy and out of breath and there was place for nothing but bliss.

He gazed at her, slightly dizzy. “We're having a baby.” 

“We're having a baby,” she confirmed. 

And before he could help himself, he picked her up and spun her around. 

“Neal!” she yelped, laughing out loud. “You're crazy!” 

“Your fault, my love. I'm crazy about you, you'll have to make do.” 

She smiled and was about to answer, but all of a sudden, her expression sobered. She threaded her fingers in his hair, in a familiar gesture.

“I was sincere, earlier. But I'll probably be difficult and neurotic and panicky at times, you know.” 

“I'll make do,” he reassured her. 

He swore inwardly that he'd be there for her, every step of the way, every second she'd need him. His determination to never disappoint her brought him down from his high and a concrete issue that he had completely overlooked hit him like a truck.

“Your residency...”

“Yes, it will be hard. Leanne warned me. But she thinks I can do it. She knows I'm a tough cookie,” Christa added. 

“I can't carry the baby for you. But maybe I can take a leave of absence for several months, after the birth, and...” he began to think aloud.

He was interrupted by a discreet knock at the door.

“Yes?” he asked.

Leanne showed up, a knowing smile on her lips. “Sorry to interrupt, but you're getting married in fifteen minutes. The bridezillas by proxy are coming for you, Christa, and if they realize you two saw each other, there will be a meltdown.”

“The what?” Neal frowned. 

“Your mom and Grans.” 

“I wish I could defend my mother, who I swear is usually a no-nonsense, level-headed person. But I've bumped into her this morning so...no,” he admitted. 

Picking up the pregnancy test that he had let drop on the floor ealier, Christa peered at him. “It's too early to tell everybody, but...Maybe, thanks to Leanne, I can now show her that I have something blue?”

They were going to have a baby, he told himself once more. And he liked the idea of Christa telling his mother, of the two most important women in his life bonding through his and Christa's unborn child.

“Yes, honey. Go give my mother a heart attack,” he quipped, his smile tender still. 

Giggling, she kissed him on the cheek, whispered _You tell your dad_ , and left the room in a flurry of white. 

He watched her go, then stepped outside through the French windows. Leanne followed him. 

“I take from your permanent grin that the news pleased you?” she teased as they walked back to his room.

He laughed. “And I thought this would only be the happiest day of my life.”

“She's doing fine?”

Her intonation told him what his friend meant, exactly. She was aware of Christa's past.

“Yes. Yes, she's...she's amazing.”

“Spoken like a true man in love.”

“She is, though. Even a pregnancy during her last year of residency doesn't seem to frighten her. Well, I guess I can be grateful to you,” he added, smirking. “You told her she could do it, so she is convinced she will...You can't be wrong in her eyes. Ah, it makes me think. What did she mean by 'thanks to Leanne'?”

“It means that you and your wife-to-be need to go back to med school and learn the basics of obstetrics again,” the ER director joked. “Although I admit that sudden appetite for grapefruit and japalenos isn't quite textbook knowledge.”

He accepted the taunt with good grace. “Duly noted.”

It wasn't the only thing that had clued her in. But the night before, she, Christa and Malaya had had dinner at Hector's, and Christa's sudden cravings for acid and spicy food had cast a whole new light on the health condition of her blonde friend. Once linked and added to each other during that lightbulb moment, the little signs all pointed the same direction. So this morning she had cancelled Ed, found an open drugstore and bought a pregnancy test in emergency. 

“Thankfully, she didn't want a bachelorette party and we just had dinner and Virgin Marys before shift,” Leanne remarked.

Neal stopped neat on his tracks. “Oh.”

“Problem?” 

“It's too early to tell people, but if Christa doesn't drink champagne at her own wedding, everybody will guess why.”

“Already taken care of,” Leanne announced smugly. “I made a phone call to the caterer this morning. One of the servers has orders to discreetly provide the bride with ginger ale in a flute, instead of champagne. No one will notice anything.” 

“Leanne, you're a gem.”

She wondered if he'd still think so after her speech he didn't yet know about. Ed was right, she had a mean streak. But Neal's warm smile touched her all the same. 

Just as they arrived in front of his room, his father opened the French windows, obviously looking for him. Peter Hudson stared at Neal for a second and rolled his eyes.

“Let's hope that your mother will never know that you saw her,” he sighed. “You'd never live it down.”

Leanne gave a sisterly pat on Neal's shoulder, and left father and son alone, returning to her duties of maid of honor. 

“With what Ma must know by now, I believe that she will forgive me for every sin in every book,” Neal answered, trying for the second time of the day to hide his emotion with a touch humor.

And for the second time, he didn't quite succeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something new: the baby of course.  
> Since there's nothing in canon about Christa's family, I didn't go into specifics.  
> Change of plans as I said, since not only I'm witless but my tiny-tiny mind is also in the gutter. So you get a secret bonus chapter 5 and it will be M at least (not finished yet, very busy at work).


	5. A rose, by any other name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A.K.A they talk a lot because the author is verbose, and they have sex because the author's mind is in the gutter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you missed it, this chapter is rated E for explicit sexual content.  
> And there's still a (un)healthy dose of sugar in this one.  
> Non beta-ed as always, please forgive any mistake you might find.

The night was sultry and the full moon was still high even as dawn neared, glooming silver in the lightening dark blue sky. They were lying naked in bed, without covers; the crumpled and sweaty sheets in a pile beside it, their hastily discarded clothes scattered around, her wedding dress in a heap on the wooden floor of the porch.  
Christa was stretched out on her back, staring into the night, a serene smile on her lips. Neal was still sleeping, his head resting on her belly, and she was stroking lazily his hair. They didn't even care for closing the French doors, earlier on, and she could hear the soothing sound of the waves breaking on the beach nearby, the salty sea air from outside cooling down the musky, heavy atmosphere of the room. 

The rhythm of his breathing changed, and she knew he was awake when she sensed his lips curl against her skin. He raised his head, in the half-light their eyes met, and her own smile made way for a husky, delighted laugh when he laid a reverent kiss on her abdomen, then another, and yet another. His fingers replaced his mouth, tracing delicate patterns, as he stared in fascination. He looked so happy that her heart just soared, her body aroused slowly under his tender gaze and touch, and a sigh of pure bliss escaped her.

“You OK?” he asked, now running his eyes over her face.

“Let me see,” she quipped. “Yesterday, I married the most wonderful man on the planet, surrounded by everybody we love, we learned I'm pregnant with his child and from this moment on he's been looking at me as if I were a dream come true. Oh, and we began our honeymoon with mind-blowing sex. I'd say I'm doing pretty well.”

“You _are_ a dream come true,” he asserted, shifting his body up for a quick kiss.

Well, he intended it quick, just to stress his words. But her mouth clung to his, opened for his tongue to invade and explore again, and she closed one hand around his nape, anchoring him to her. He angled his head, deepening the kiss even more, taking all his time to savor the delicious, heady taste of his wife. 

“You're my wife,” he repeated aloud as he settled next to her, on his side. He was propped on his left forearm, caressing once more her stomach in slow strokes with his free hand. 

“That's what the minister said,” she beamed, brushing a rebel lock off his forehead. “But it's a bit weird, you know...I'm Dr Hudson _and_ Mrs Hudson now, and yet in my mind, the former is you or your father, and the latter your mother.”

“I've always had a fondness for 'Dr Lorenson' myself...” he confessed with a grin, remembering how he used to get, and tried to ignore, a pleasant flutter in his stomach whenever he called _Dr Lorenson, you're with me_ , around the beginning of her residency. “And anyway, a rose by any other name...”

She laughed out loud. “You know that Taylor served me the same quote?”

“Excuse me?” 

His puzzled, should-I-be-jealous expression gave her another fit of laughter. “Two days ago during shift, he complained that after he made an effort to memorize my name, I should show minimum respect and not change it so quickly. And then he told me in his best grumpy voice 'anyway, a rose by any other name and all that shit', and he turned his back on me.”

Neal cracked up, his shoulders shaking. He brought her left hand to his lips. 

“Well...my father, for one, quite likes the idea of another Dr Hudson around. And even more the idea of _yet_ another Hudson around.”

“For your father, every Hudson has to be a Dr Hudson,” she grinned.

He grinned back, but soon his expression turned pensive, and he began to play absently with her fingers. Peering at him, she streched out her other hand, caressed his nape and the back of his skull, as she often did whenever he needed comfort. 

“You two seemed...I don't know, on the same wavelength,” she remarked.

They didn't have time to talk yet about the events of the day. After they left the party, they had been as much in a hurry to make love as for their first time, and they didn't stop until they were spent and sore and fell in a dreamless sleep. 

“Yes, we were...we are. I don't even know how to explain it. When I told him about the baby, he understood what I was talking about before I spelled the words out and God, Christa...he and I used to be unable to communicate at all, and today we were able to communicate without words.” He paused for a second, time to press his lips against her knuckle, just above her rings. “He didn't say anything, he just put his hand on my shoulder, and yet I understood everything he meant to tell me. For the first time since I was a child, I had the feeling to belong in his company.”

She raised herself up for a second, time to kiss him softly on the mouth. “I'm so glad for you. I like your dad, you know.”

Neal chuckled. “And he, you. I believe that aside from medecine, you're the only choice I made in my life that he approved of without reservation, from the get-go.”

“Your mother surprised me, too.”

He wiggled his brows. “Because she didn't have a heart attack?” 

“No, silly,” she chided, her playful smile belying the roll of her eyes. “And let me tell you that for a second, I was truly afraid she would. She stared at the pregnancy test with a blank look in her eyes for longer than you did. But since she was so enthusiastic about the wedding and the ceremony, and always so outgoing, I expected a very un-British reaction. You know, some squealing or maybe even some kind of victory dance.”

“And what did she do?” he chuckled again.

“She smiled at me...she just smiled at me, without saying a word. But the only person I ever saw her smile at like this before, is you,” Christa added, a touch of awe in her voice. “Then she hugged me, and...I mean, she's always been nice and friendly to me but it was different. I felt...like you did with your father. I felt that I belonged.”

She fit so perfectly, he marveled. In his life, in his family. But again she was his life, she was his family.

He let go of her hand to cup her jaw, and joined his lips to hers. She answered in earnest, wrapping both her arms around his nape, drawing him closer to her, and shivered from head to toe when her chest rubbed against his. 

He pulled back, his eyes intent on her, his fingers traveling down the side of her neck and her collarbone. When they reached the swell of her breast, she shivered again. He had noticed earlier that she was particularly tender there, but he had put it down to the intensity of the moment.

“That's new,” he murmured against her mouth, teasing the velvety skin, watching her swallow a moan and bite her lower lip in reaction. It made him want to bite her lower lip, too. 

“It's been a day or two, I guess. But since we barely saw each other in the last week or so...”

Their load of work had been insane, they had temporarily been on different shifts and, simple or not, a wedding meant administrative formalities to deal with and tons of decisions to make. 

“Nine days,” he specified, his tone making it quite clear how he felt about it, while his hand wandered idly along the lines of her body. “Nine long, endless days. I would have noticed, otherwise.”

“I probably would have dismissed it, too. I had my first bout of morning sickness today and I only thought it was something I ate. I'd like to believe I'd have been less blind if not for my age and condition, but...Come to think of it, it's ironic,” she went on after a short silence. 

“How's that?”

“Well...for my son, I had been trying for a couple of months, so I knew I was pregnant very early on. But aside from sleepiness and crying on cue, I didn't feel physically different at all and I was quite disappointed. I didn't have 'real' symptoms like morning sickness until about six weeks into it. Here, I was so certain I wasn't late, so certain it was just stress and exhaustion as usual, that I completely ignored the exact same signs I was so eager to find the first time around.”

“According to what you're saying there weren't many symptoms to ignore until a couple of days ago. You're about six weeks in, right? I mean...there was just one time,” he pointed, a bit rueful as he remembered how he couldn't wait, didn't wait and threw all caution away.

“Just one time, yes,” she repeated with a self-deprecating smile. “Yet I'm a _doctor_ , and I didn't even think of the most obvious. I feel like a foolish teenager.”

“I felt like a foolish teenager, too, you know.” He couldn't regret it, though. They were doctors, they had unprotected sex once...and they didn't use EC. Yes, none of them had thought she could fall pregnant so easily, and yes, their lives in the last two months had been a hectic rush that didn't give them any leeway to think. Still, they didn't actively try to make it impossible. “So I guess it makes us perfect for each other.” 

“Oh, that we are,” she answered with a clear laugh.

She looked up, plunging her gaze into his, and gave him that beaming smile which never failed to melt his heart.

“I love you,” she murmured as she reached for him, fingers trailing lightly on his torso, lighting soft little flames along the way, then tiptoeing leisurely accross his stomach, where his muscles clenched in reaction.

Her touch was sweetly arousing, her words brought him to his knees. His eyes still on hers, he bent his head to nibble at her tempting mouth, explored gently her curves in return. Her left hand glided down his lower abdomen, and he was half hard already. It cruised across his groin, his thighs, always getting closer but never touching him there, wreaking havock on his senses.

“Tease,” he scolded affectionately.

In retaliation, he ran his fingers over her sensitized breasts, stroked the undersides, drew circles around the pink areolas, delicately took her lower lip between his teeth and drank her little helpless moan; he tantalized her like she did him, watching her watching him.  
She finally wrapped her hand around his length, reveling in his sudden intake of breath, in the flash of heat in his dark pupils that had her own skin tingle. Her gaze never left his as she stroked him and enjoyed what she was doing to him, enjoyed his eyes clouding with pleasure and longing, enjoyed him gritting his teeth when she brushed her palm against his tip. He didn't stay idle, his wandering hand sliding between her legs, finding her damp. His gaze never left hers either as his fingers explored tentatively her folds, played at her entrance, eliciting soft content sighs. 

It was the morning after their wedding, they were alone in that little cocoon of a room, surrounded by the sound of the waves and the smell of the sea, and they had all the time in the world. Still looking into each other's eyes, they exchanged languorous kisses, lazy caresses, secret smiles, a world away from their frenzy of the previous night, quietly enjoying each other's body; yet little by little, warmth turned to low fever, long sighs became short pants, until Neal withdrew his hand and seized gently her wrist.

“I want you,”he whispered in her ear as she protested the loss.

Christa followed his move as he shifted and rolled on top of her. Settling between her legs, he sank home inch by inch, and she welcomed him with a silent gasp. She smiled in delight as he rocked his hips, as they rocked together, their rhythm slow and easy in the pale light of early dawn. It was so good to hold on to his long, muscular body, to feel his weight on her, it was so good to feel him inside her, thick and hot, to feel his gaze on her, tender and warm, to give herself up to the exquisite sensations he evoked in her. She had been so close a moment ago and now a serene, infinitely sweet release was drawing near. She caressed his face, his hair, as tenderly, as delicately as he was taking her, trying to tell him how much he pleased her, how much she loved him. 

Light-headed from the keen scent of her arousal, his head cradled between her hands, his hips between her thighs, Neal drove into her in long unhurried strokes, delicious tension gathering in his loins. She was wet and tight around him, her body pliant under his, she was all silken skin and delectable flesh and she was giving it all to him, she gave him everything, touching him, looking at him with so much love that once more, she undid him.  
He was drinking the sight of her, drowning in the feel of her, and suddenly he was overwhelmed by the strength and the depth of his feelings for her. She was amazing, she was perfect, she was made for him, she was his. Emotions washed over him in a rush of possessiveness, leaving him desperately craving for her. He didn't want sweet, he didn't want quiet anymore. He wanted more, he wanted to give her more, he wanted to give her everything so that he would bind her to him. He came to a halt, causing her to whine in frustration, confusion in her blue eyes. 

He wanted to tell her how he felt, but words and voice failed him, so he just brushed his lips against hers. He resumed his moves, yet there was no more easiness, no more gentleness; this time, using his knowledge of her body, he was mercilessly arousing her, restraining his own burning need to lose himself in her in order to maintain a slow and deliberate pace.  
He felt her tense under him, tighten around him, relished her sharp intakes of breath, how she raised her hips to meet his, trying to take him in deeper. His mouth lingered down her neck, her collaborne, his touch feather-like, before he set it to her swollen breasts. He teased her erected nipples with the tip of his tongue, it made her whimper, he nibbled gently at them, it made her writhe, he suckled on them, and it made her wild. Her skin was flushed, her pupils wide, her breath coming into pants, her body tense like a bow, passion written all over her face.  
The restraint he exerted was almost painful, but it didn't matter because he had her where he wanted now, he had her where he was, he had her with him. He felt that she was about to come, but he wanted it to last, it couldn't be over so soon, they could have more, so once again, he stopped his ministrations. She protested when his lips traveled back up to her collarbone, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails breaking skin. Her bewildered gaze searched in his for answers, and he realized that for his lack of explanations, she thought he was only denying her. Needing to reassure her, he planted a soothing kiss on her mouth and stroked softly her hair while he entered her again, making her gasp and close her eyes briefly.

“Stay with me...I'll make it good, I promise.”

There was a pleading note in his voice, desperate hunger in his eyes. It wasn't about control, it wasn't about frustration, Christa understood. She let him know, her hands roaming appeasingly across his back, over his taut muscles now covered in sweat, and she stayed with him like he wanted, like she wanted. His embrace was all-consuming, each thrust wound her a little bit tighter, brought her a little bit closer, excruciatingly so, causing her heavy pants to change into loud moans. Everytime he filled her, she was hit by a sharp, white-hot pang of intense pleasure but her climax kept hovering just out of her reach, taunting, beckoning her; and everytime he withdrew without giving it to her, she felt so empty, so void that she could have wept. Compelling herself to stay on the brink, his intent, burning eyes boring into hers, everything heightened the pressure, increased the sweet pain. It was too much, she thought, suddenly panicked at the idea that if she waited any longer, it might escape her and leave her unfulfilled. She wouldn't bear it, she couldn't bear it...

“I can't...Neal...” 

“Hold back, darling,” he coaxed her, his voice strained and thick with need. “Just a little more...”

She was so beautiful, undone and abandoned in his arms, her blurred eyes desperately searching his for solace, her body taking him in fully, her arms and legs clutching at him. He took her mouth, kissed her deeply to offer her some relief, but kept the same maddeningly steady pace. Soon, her whole body began to tremble, making his own pent-up desire spiral at the speed of light and out of his control. He buried himself deep inside her once more and he felt it, felt her come hard as she threw her head back on a choked cry. The sight of her coming apart sent sharp jolts of electricity all over his raw nerves, the sensuous sound she made, goose bumps all over his burning skin, until her walls squeezing him impossibly tight tipped him over the edge and all restraint gone, gasping her name, hips bucking restlessly, he followed her into brilliant oblivion.

Rapture caught Christa in a breathtaking fall, her world shattering in a million pieces. She clung to Neal like to a lifeline, fighting for breath, quivering with the violent strength of her long-awaited release. The sensation of him losing control, getting so incredibly hard before spilling himself into her caused her muscles to contract again around him, making her reach another peak, even more intense than the first, extravagant pleasure surging out of nowhere and hitting her like a breaker. The hot wave of unadulterated bliss engulfed them both, drowned them and left them washed ashore, boneless, eyes shut, heart pounding, as it rippled through their bodies. 

She was still coming down from her climax when he rolled over with her in his arms, so as not to crush her with his weight. Their bodies were hot, flushed and sweaty but neither of them cared, she holding on to him, he holding her tight against him, their heads resting side by side on the rumpled pillows. Their eyes met and, still entwined, still dizzy, still euphoric in the afterglow, they broke into a shocked, breathless, giddy fit of laughter.

“You're crazy,” she wheezed, before she went for his mouth and pulled him in a deep, bewildered, grateful kiss.

“You make me,” he grinned afterwards, his tone tender and teasing at once.

She snorted, muffled another giggle in his shoulder and soon after a satisfied little sigh followed, her warm breath a pleasant brush against his skin.  
To his surprise, Neal didn't feel sleepy or even tired in spite of his sore muscles. He was parched, though, and reached for the water bottle they had left on the nighstand. It was tepid now, but still fresh enough for him, and for her, too, considering the long gulps she took when he offered it to her.

As their bodies cooled down, as their heartbeats retrieved a normal rate, as she lay peacefully in his arms, he felt more and more relaxed and energized. Kissing the top of her head from time to time, he let his mind wander and of course, it headed directly for the baby...his, her, their baby. Would the idea ever cease to amaze him?  
The previous day and night had left him little time but to digest the idea that he was going to be a father, yet now that he could contemplate, the notion of this baby as a person became more concrete. _Would it be a boy or a girl_ , he asked himself. He tilted his head to gaze at Christa's lovely face. _Would their child look like her?_  
He hoped so, and his imagination provided him with an image of an adorable mini-Christa, a chubby toddler with big blue eyes, fresh and sweet like an English rose...The analogy reminded him of their earlier conversation about Christa's new name, and he chuckled. _A rose, by any other name_...

A rose, by any other name...

“I was thinking,” he said after a moment, fingers grazing up and down her arm. 

Her eyes were closed, but he knew from her breathing that she was only dozing.

“You're able to _think_ after this?” she groaned. She nuzzled his neck, in search of a better position to rest. 

“What about Rose?”

“Which rose?” she asked, raising drowsy and well-sated blue eyes to his.

“I mean, if it's a girl. What about Rose?”

For a couple of seconds, her incredulous gaze clearly conveyed, _Sex makes you think of baby names?_ Then she smiled, and her smile was heaven. Joyful and so loving.

“Rose...I like it. Rose is on the table,” she agreed, finally choosing to cushion her head against his chest and, drifting into sleep, she added in a mumble: “Dr Rose Hudson...it has a nice ring to it.”

Stretched out on his back, enjoying the feel of his wife's warm and soft body againts his, stroking lazily the curve of her hip, Neal stared into the morning sky with a smile on his lips. 

***

_When he phoned his parents on Valentine's day the following year, he was still in a daze, still reeling; his whole world had just shifted on its axis and sunk into an ocean of boundless, unconditional love since the first second he laid eyes on his daughter. Sitting next to Christa on her hospital bed, an arm around her shoulder, he was staring in awe at the two loves of his life._

_“And how did you name her? You can finally tell us, now,” his mother asked impatiently through the speaker._

_“Rose,” Neal and Christa answered at the same time._

_“Rose...Dr Rose Hudson...It has a nice ring to it,” Peter approved._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you I had no limits in this one. Happily ever after all the way. I blame the show and the stupid possible breakup for my compulsion to write a fairytale wedding.  
> I didn't write explicit smut in a very long time...I tore my hair out because of that one, it kept going into different directions and Neal was particularly uncooperative. Hopefully, it isn't too clumsy or too boring or too disappointing or to...I don't even know.  
> Thank you for reading! And thank you for your comments, bookmarks and kudos, they're all very, very much appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Something old: the memory of Neal and Christa's first “moment”.  
> Next chapter, something borrowed leads Mike and the residents to make a certain discovery.  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
